She remembered fishing the big river with her father, the tiny fish gasping in the air. He released it from the hook, tossed it back. Let it get bigger.
But it was my first catch, she whined.
Love, too, proved slippery as a small fish. She tried every line and net she could, but love escaped her efforts, or was just too small and had to be thrown back.
She heard her father’s words: Let it get bigger. Somewhere, beneath the murky waves, love grew day by day, just waiting for her boat to linger at the surface.